Ray crouched between the rows, heart beating too fast, legs
beginning to cramp. Damn it, why did things like this
always happen to him? Ray knew the reason, even as he asked
himself the question.
It was always Benton Fraser's fault. The man who was always
out to help the little person, the underdog, always willing to
lend a helping hand - if that meant lending Ray's hand as well...
so be it. Just a minute of your time Ray, said the
Mountie. Ray, I don't think you should bring a loaded gun
into the shelter, he'd suggested in that Canadian-polite
tone. Really, Ray, you can live without your phone for one
hour, the ringing is so distracting. What could possibly
happen while serving dinner at a shelter?
Which explained why he was here, hiding on the floor of a porn
theater, with no ammo, no cell phone, no back-up. The detective
sighed his disgust and peeked over the chairs. There. Just
coming through the doors were Volpe's goons. He watched
them searching the dark, looking at the customers spaced
sporadically about the theater, trying to find the two dark
shadows who had just witnessed a major drug deal. I don't
know what's worse, them not knowing we're cops or what might
happen if they find out.
Now, where the hell did Fraser go? Ray turned towards the
screen and saw the Mountie, three rows from the front, sitting
stiffly upright, determinedly *not* watching the start of the
movie. Jesus H. Christ! As soon as they see him,
they'll know he doesn't belong. Who else would come to a
gay porn theater and then stare at a blank wall? At least,
Ray thought with a small sense of relief, he wasn't wearing the
The detective took another quick look at their pursuers and saw
that they were starting to work their way down the rows, pausing
briefly behind each patron. Shit. Shit. Shit. He'd give
them 10 minutes max before they found Fraser - less for them to
find him, crouched between two rows. Think, think, think!
his brain chanted.
A shout made him chance another look over the chairs. Both
of the goons were arguing with some yutz in a raincoat. Ray
thought one of them might have been propositioned. He
smiled and held back a laugh. Serves the assholes right. Taking
advantage of the distraction, he crawled into the aisle,
slithering down to Fraser's row. Ignoring the stench rising
up from the floor and the sticky cling of unknown things on his
gloves, he moved down the chairs until he was next to Fraser.
"Yes, Ray. I see you." Fraser spoke out of
the corner of his mouth.
"What the hell do you think you're doing there,
Benton-buddy?" Ray spoke in a loud whisper, trying to be
heard over the cheesy soundtrack. Steadying himself with a
hand to Fraser's knee, he looked at the eerie flickering of
lights across the stoic face above him.
"Well, Ray, I thought that if I simply sat down they would
assume I was a patron and ignore me."
Ray couldn't believe his ears. "Fraze, wake up and
smell the sodomy. You do not even remotely resemble a patron of
this hell hole. Have you even *looked* at the screen?"
Fraser finally looked down at him. "Yes. Yes, I
did, Ray, and I don't believe that that man is really a police
officer. Now, while I'm not familiar with all of your law
enforcement agencies, his uniform doesn't seem to be
regulation. To be honest, I don't think I've ever seen
patent leather hip boots on...."
"Fraser." Nobody could be this innocent.
"It's a skin flick - they don't have costume
designers," he shuddered as the well-worn film skipped a few
frames and the soundtrack quavered, "or musical
scores. Or even plots, for that matter. They have men
who fuck each other." He ignored Fraser's small gasp
and continued, "Where the hell are those goons?"
Fraser gave a slightly shaky, but natural-looking stretch and
looked over his shoulder.
"Approximately fifteen rows back."
"Shit." Think, Kowalski, think. He couldn't
yank Fraser down on the floor, they'd notice. He certainly didn't
want to be found here, either. Shot down in a porn theater was
not one of his life goals. Although, he thought perversely,
everyone would think it was Ray Vecchio and that made him smirk.
"Ray, what do you want me to do?" The question broke
his reverie and he put his mind back to the problem at
hand. What the hell would convince them that Fraser
belonged here. Better yet, what would convince them that
they didn't *want* to investigate Fraser. Thinking of
the goon's reaction earlier, he had an idea.
"Take off your coat."
Fraser immediately shrugged off his leather jacket, without
question, and held it rather questioningly.
"Spread your legs." Fraser complied and Ray
shifted to kneel between the hard muscled thighs, elbows on
either knee. Trying to ignore the stickiness of the floor
under his knees, he removed his filthy gloves, interlocked his
fingers and rested his chin on them.
Fraser looked down at him briefly and then made a quiet noise
of understanding, before spreading the jacket out and draping it
The warm coat covered his head and back, and Ray was in total
blackness. Breathing in the scent of leather and Mountie,
he had to shuffle a bit, making room for his awakening
erection. Hopefully, Fraser's legs and the darkness would
hide most of him, making them believe Fraser was simply covering
his dick while he watched the show. If it also allowed a
little harmless fantasizing about his partner on his part, who
could it hurt? Granted, the first part would only work if
the Mountie would watch the damn show. Ray lifted the
collar slightly and spoke through the gap.
"Pardon me?" So much for doing what he was told
"Moan. Like you're having a good time. And for
Pete's sake, at least *look* at the screen."
"Certainly. I... Oh, dear."
Ray could hear the muffled sound from the film through the coat
and recognized the meaty thuds of someone being fucked.
Loudly. Messily. Thoroughly.
"I... I... Ray... Oh...." Ray could feel Fraser's
body tense and his thigh muscles lock in preparation of
flight. Ray made a quick grab at the jeans in front of him,
tucking his fingers down the waistband and holding on, trying to
keep the struggling figure still.
"Fraser. Benton. Relax, *now*."
Fraser continued to struggle upwards until Ray simply bit the
hard muscled thigh next to him to gain his attention.
Fraser froze. "Ray?"
He took a deep breath and let it out, trying to remain
calm. "Fraser, where are they?"
"Twelve rows." Ray could hear the trembling in
the voice above his head.
"It's okay, you can do this."
"But, they're... I can't..."
"Yes. You can. Calm down. It's just some
guys, doing what it is some guys do. Okay?"
"You've..." Ray heard the question that his best
friend couldn't bring himself to ask. This wasn't how
he had wanted to broach the subject, but what the
hell. The cat's out of the bag.
"Yeah, Frase, I have. So just relax, it'll be
fine." He tentatively moved the hand still clutched in
Fraser's waistband, rubbing the taut stomach muscles with the
back of his fingers, trying to soothe him. He worried briefly for
a moment that Fraser would bolt again, but then the clenched
thighs on either side of him relaxed slightly and he could feel
the rest of body above him slowly unwind.
"Good." He kept the gentle motion of his hand
going and tried to keep his voice low and
calm. "Now, Benton, I want you to put your hands under
here with me, like you're showing yourself a good time.
Watch the screen, give a few moans, a couple of grunts, and send
the nice men on their way. Got it? Come on buddy,
Several seconds crept by and finally Fraser's hands crept under
the edge of the jacket, nervously clutching at his own thighs.
Ray barely heard the whispered reply. "I don't think... I
mean... I've never..."
"You don't have to actually do it Fraser.
Pretend." Ray was getting annoyed. Christ,
Fraser acted like he'd never jerked off before. Here was a
perfectly good plan, no, it was a *great* plan, and the Mountie
refused to play his part. "Give me your hands and I'll
show you how." He ran his hands up the thighs and tried to
grasp the suddenly skittish hands that refused to be held.
"Damn it, Fraser, hold still."
"No. I can't..."
Ray couldn't believe it. "'I can't' is not an option
here, Fraze.' Now he was angry; their lives were on the
line. "We are *not* gonna buy it in this
theater. Do you understand me?..."
"...Cause the last thing that I hear is *not* going to be
this music; the last thing I see is *not* going to be Officer
Rockhard and the rest of the 'Police Acockamy'." His
voice was getting louder and he somehow didn't care.
"And above all, Fraser, I am definitely not going to my
great reward stuck to this floor, covered in some other man's
"...Do you know what that'll do to my karma?? I
Ray's face was suddenly pressed up against Fraser's crotch, open
mouth full of denim, the hands holding him there firm.
"Ray. You've got to be quiet."
Ray nodded his surprised agreement, inappropriately pleased to be
firmly snuggled so closely to the object of his desire. He
could feel the hot press of Fraser under his cheek and the heavy
scent of him filling his nose. Mountie fingers held his
head gently. Above him Fraser has started to chant quietly
under his breath. "*I* am a Mountie. I *am* a
Mountie. I. Am. A. Mountie. A Mountie. I...
Ray could tell when Fraser moved his eyes to the screen by the
sudden quiver in the belly beneath his hand and
forehead. Several seconds later, Ray felt an
unexpected answering shudder in the mound in front of him; the
sudden heat seeming to burn his skin. Unable to help
himself, unwilling to stop himself, he pressed himself
closer. He was already gonna burn for bigger things that
copping a feel, so what the hell? Besides, he reasoned, as
he pushed a bit more, maybe he could
just *help* the Mountie along his way to pretending. Just
to save lives.
He pressed a quick kiss to the covered erection anyway and
waited. Nothing happened. Not believing that his
indiscretion hadn't been noted, but hey, he didn't want to kick a
gift horse in the head, Ray started to pull away. Too bad
the hands holding him captive didn't relent. After one
terrifyingly long moment, they pulled him closer, and he heard
his name. Soft and breathy and just how he had long
imagined it might be.
Ray let out the breath he was unconsciously holding and smiled,
rather foolishly, at the heady rush that made his world
spin. Fraser had said *his* name, in a very
non-mountie voice. This was it. His reward for being
a decent cop, a fairly good human being, and above all, for being
insane enough to love the most freakish man in the world.
Life was good. Hell, life was *great*. No place on
earth that he would rather be right now; sitting here on the
floor, head being cradled delicately, tucked tidily between
blocky thighs, listening to the best music in the world.
Heaven. It just didn't get better than this.
Unless, of course, those hands moved, and started exploring his
face, like it was a precious thing that should be treated as
such. When fingers caressed his brow, the arch of his nose,
and finally brushed against his lips - BANG! The universe
expanded and life became a miracle.
His lips felt dry against the butterfly light touches and he
licked them, brushing his tongue against a thumb. It pushed
slightly and he drew it in, nibbling at the pad, licking the salt
heavy taste away. He proceeded to lave each finger, worship
each knuckle, breathe tiny prayers against the palms, until they
moved away. He whimpered his loss, but they were only
returning to his hair, caressing the strands, soothing his
Ray was aware of the hard throb under the fingertips, still
tucked into Fraser's pants. Slowly, carefully, he ran his
free hand over the hot length, and undid the button at the top of
the jeans. After a moments hesitation he slid the
zipper down and spread the sides, ready to retreat at the first
sign of distress. When nothing came but the slight flex of
fingers in his hair, he pushed down the boxers, letting the
elastic waistband trap his prize under the slick head.
Good, but not good enough. He wanted, craved, needed to
have more but didn't want to break this fragile spell. A
few inches would make him happy. Hell, give him a little party
hat and he'd dance a merry little jig to his extraordinary good
Pushing up Fraser's shirt, he ran a light hand over the hard
abdomen. The skin was hot and tight beneath his hand as he
brushed his fingertips teasingly over the slick, leaking head
pushed against the belly. A few more touches and his thumb was
wet enough to slide easily over and around the dimpled
He felt Fraser's groan vibrate through him and the hard, rough
fingers tightened, kneading him like a cat. Tugging at the
briefs with one hand, he cupped his hand around Fraser's cock,
learning the shape and size like Braille. He pulled again
at the white cotton until it was bunched beneath the heavy sac
below his fist, pushing it forward, offering it to his wandering
A hitch in the chest above him and Ray couldn't draw it out,
couldn't wait that extra minute. He wanted his prize
now. Opening his mouth, he slid it lovingly over the plumed
head, welcoming the tight stretch of his lips that the awkward
position offered him. Letting his fingers drift up and down
the shaft, rolling the weight beneath his chin between his
fingertips, he let his tongue worship every hard inch.
Nothing existed except the thick scent of Fraser, mingling
with the warm leather around him, the subtle shifting of hips
that thrust the cock deeper into his mouth. The tang of precum,
bitter and sweet and sticky filled his mouth. He could feel
the tightness of Fraser's body, imagined his partner him throwing
back his head, the long masculine line of his neck. God, he
was so close, without even touching himself.
Suddenly the coat was gone and he was exposed, blinking in the
harsh light of the screen. Looking up in panic and feeling
a heavy sweet weight fill his chest and discovering that he
didn't care. He trusted Fraser with his life and knew that
the other man would never reveal them to danger. The
thought only took a split second to flash across his mind before
he caught himself in the vision before him. It was better
than his imagination had ever been able to create.
Dark head bent towards him, temples damp and a slow trickle of
sweat dripping down that perfect cheek. Those innocent blue
eyes, rimmed in black, watching him as he throated Fraser's
cock. The clench of teeth in that fat lower lip as he
swirled his tongue around the base; clutching the hard, thick
thighs in front of him as they thrust and finally, he heard his
name again, in a throaty, low groan and he was gone. His
own hips jerked and the fingers in his hair tightened as his
mouth filled and he swallowed, demanding more and more just to
hear his name pass those lips again and again.
Ray rubbed his damp cheek against the leg next to him, nuzzling
the rough fabric. He could sense the changing lights of the
movie on his closed lids and listened to the stilted dialogue
above him, brows creasing briefly. The Right to Remain
Handcuffed? What the hell? A calloused finger smoothed out
the crinkle in his forehead.
"Ray." His name so thick and full of
emotion. "Ray." Better than he
imagined. Better than it had been seconds before.
"Ray." The stroking fingers moved, thumbs wiping away
the sweat on his face, cupping his cheeks, rubbing his lips
softly. Better still. Tell me that you love me.
"They're gone. We need to go."
"Oh, yeah, I love- What?" What in the hell
was he talking about. This was not part of his post orgasm
dream. There was much more of his name and maybe a little
cuddling. There wasn't any talk about leaving.
"Why? If they're gone, it don't matter." he offered
inanely, trying to get back to his pre-formulated fantasy.
"Are we still gonna die?" Cause it would be okay
to go to kick the bucket now. Spunk or not.
A quiet chuckle answered him. Not a Mountie noise, but a
deep, throaty laugh, reserved for lovers on rainy mornings, when
you're buried in your cozy bed. It was a good noise for
Fraser to make. "I don't think so, one of the other
patrons complained and they were escorted out. Although I
wouldn't normally leave the scene of a crime, I don't think that
we should stay and wait for the police to arrive..."
"Hmmm-hmmm." The Right to Remain Handcuffed *and*
the Right to be Fucked? Who wrote this crap?
"Ray. We need to go. Now." The
Mountie voice was back, polite but distant, and the comfortable
hands changed into RCMP issue. Hands that tidied up jeans and
shirt, hands that neatly cupped his elbows and help him rise.
Ray struggled to his feet, feeling crushed and rather foolish
for his fantasies. Of course, we have to go. I just
molested my best friend in a porn theater, under the guise of
help. Granted, it had helped, but still... "You're
right. I'll drop you off at the Consulate and go back to
the station and file a report." Shoot myself in the
head and hide my own body. Stupid, stupid,
stupid. He was achingly aware of the wet spot on the
front of his jeans and his messy damp hair.
"Shit. I gotta go home and change first."
He turned and stomped towards the emergency exit next to the
screen, not caring if the other man followed.
Ray tugged on the door's release bar and Fraser's arm came over
his shoulder, palm slamming the metal door shut. The
cop yanked ineffectively for a moment and then stood quietly,
"Ray. I was wondering..."
There was a gentle touch on his chin. "I'm unfamiliar with
the Miranda Rights being used in this nude-reel."
"Skin-flick. Yes, skin-flick. Anyway, I was
hoping you might teach them to me."
Of course. Benton Fraser, needed to be the knower of all
things, even dirty movie plotlines. He sighed.
"Fraser, there is no such...." He paused.
The Right to Remain Handcuffed. The Right be Fucked. The
Right to Beg. "I don't have the boots," he
"Well, that's just silly, Ray," Fraser responded in
that melting voice. Ray looked at the open face before him, and
watched the soft eyes become aloof and the gentle smile
disappear. This time, he was prepared for the firm Mountie
tone. "You'll only need the handcuffs."
There was a quick press of a hot mouth against his own gaping
one and the arm bracing the door was gone. Things were definitely
looking up. Ray grinned, slapped his partner on the
shoulder and opened the door. "Oh, Fraze?"
"Yes, Ray?" Fraser turned and gave him that blinding
smile when he saw the handcuffs swinging gently from Ray's
"You're under arrest."